


Image

by maximumsuckage



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-10 22:31:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13511106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maximumsuckage/pseuds/maximumsuckage
Summary: A moment from Castiel's conditioning to kill Dean Winchester.Alternate summary: Naomi's a horrible angel.





	Image

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the tumblr prompt from archangelgabriellives: can you write about castiel in naiomi's warehouse having to kill all the dean clones?

Even if he closed his eyes against the blinding light, the image remained burned onto his retina, a photonegative image of a single, meaningless human, smiling at him, one hand raised in greeting.  There was no way to erase the image, no way to banish it from his presence.  That was a lie- there was one way to make it leave.  One impossible way.

“Kill him,” Naomi whispered, her breath warm against Castiel’s ear.  “He is just a mortal man.  There are countless others.  They swarm the earth like insects.  Nobody will notice the squashing of one.  Kill him.”

“No.”  Castiel stood there, the blade heavy in his hands.  It wasn’t really Dean in front of him- he knew that, of course.  But it was a solid likeness, right down to the freckles, and Castiel’s fingers shook at the thought of destroying the man.  “I will not.”

“Will not?  Or cannot?”  Naomi moved away from Castiel, to stand beside the mockery of Dean’s form.  “It is just a man, Castiel.  Are your feelings so strong for him?  You are a seraph.  You are one of the burning ones, and yet you balk at this tiny task?”

“I will not kill Dean Winchester,” Castiel repeated firmly.  He opened his hand, letting his blade fall to the floor.  The clattering of metal proved an exclamation point cementing his statement.

Naomi’s eyes flicked downwards at the motion, and then back to Castiel’s face.  “Your emotions betray you, Castiel.  They betray all of us- your family, your brothers-in-arms.  We need you to kill him, Castiel.  You are the only one strong enough.  We need you.”

“You don’t need me.”  He turned away from her, turned away from the image of Dean, but he could still see it within his mind.  He could always see that image in his mind, of the Righteous Man.  Righteous, but broken, torn to pieces by life and death, struggling to hold it together for his brother.  A noble man, a hero, who deserved only happiness.  “ _He_ needs me.”

Naomi’s lips turned upwards in a gentle smile, but her eyes glimmered in a mocking sneer.  “Oh, Castiel.  He does not need you.  He simply uses you.  You are a tool to him, for now, but when you cease to be useful, you will be just another monster.”

Silent, Castiel didn’t look.

“I’m sorry,” Naomi murmured, moving forward to set a hand on his shoulder.  “But you know the truth as well as I do.  This man you care about, this man you revere… he does not feel the same way.  He never has.”

“It does not matter.”  But he still grit his teeth, closing his eyes.  The image remained though, floating in the darkness behind his eyelids.  “He needs me.”

“You’ve brought him nothing but grief,” she whispered, rubbing one hand down his arm in a very human method of comfort.  “He did not need rescue from Hell.  Remember?  He ascended in their ranks.  A torturer, punishing the wicked.  Let him return to his true calling.”

“That _killed_ him,” Castiel snarled, turning sharply towards her, but she was so close that they were now nose to nose.  He grit his teeth again, eyes narrowed as he spread his wings, wide and threatening.  “They gave him no choice-”

“There is always a choice,” Naomi said, and despite his posturing, she cupped his cheek.  “There is always a choice, but Dean Winchester has never chosen you.” 

He shoved her arm away. 

Naomi sighed, then bent down to pick up his blade, pressing it back into his hand.  “Think about it, Castiel.  I will return tomorrow.”

And then she was gone, and he was alone with a dead eyed image of Dean.


End file.
